


9 to 5

by lovetincture



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/F, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:22:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24082783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovetincture/pseuds/lovetincture
Summary: Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham have escaped, and it's going to be a long week.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	9 to 5

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a little mystified by the fact that Kade Prurnell's surname is misspelled in the official tag, but here we are. I couldn't find the Kade-centric post fall fic I wanted, so I wrote my own.

It had not been a good day. 

Hannibal Lecter had escaped, and if that wasn’t bad enough, there were rumblings in the grapevine that it was part of a covert op—an _unauthorized_ covert op—gone horribly wrong. Kade couldn’t have designed a worse day herself. She was on her way out of the office when she’d gotten the call and made her way right back in.

She’d growled at the first person who’d commented on her reappearance in the building, an intern whose name she hasn’t quite got the hang of yet, because yes, she’s still here, and no, she doesn’t want to be. She pinches the bridge of her nose and asks an assistant to bring her a coffee. The phone is already ringing off the hook, and there’ll be hell to pay if the press gets wind of this.

It’s going to be a long night.

The sun is long gone by the time she shuts down her computer and drags a hand across her face. She stares unseeing into the screen’s flat black depths for longer than she means to, zoning out, still contending with the way her eyes feel shriveled in their sockets. It’s a long drive back to Woodbridge. A paper cup of coffee is sitting half-drunk on her desk, stale and cold, and she’ll deal with it in the morning.

She pulls herself away from her desk only because there’s nothing else she can do tonight, and because she’s the last one here, and she deeply wants to be home.

* * *

Claire is waiting up for her when she arrives. The kids are tucked away in bed, and the house is quiet.

“You didn’t have to stay up,” Kade says. She keeps her voice down even though the kids are upstairs. It’s force of habit, or else maybe her voice is like the rest of her—worn out, tired of being tired, on vacation for the next eight hours until she has to drag herself out of bed and do it all over again.

It’s going to be a long week.

Claire shrugs, the soft cloth of her robe swaying with the movement of her shoulders. “I wanted to see you.”

“You missed me?” Kade asks, a little relieved to find she still has teasing in her.

“Yeah.”

Kade shrugs off her coat and sighs.

Claire drifts closer, deft fingers unhooking the buttons of Kade’s blazer, pushing it off her shoulders. Kade reaches under her shirt and unhooks her own bra, letting out a groan of relief as the pressure of metal wires finally lets up. She scratches idly at the indented skin, toes off her shoes and stacks them neatly by the door.

Each piece of clothing shucked is a piece of armor removed, a weight released. Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham can wait until the morning.

“We had lasagna for dinner. Want me to heat some up?”

Kade shakes her head. “I think I just want to get some sleep.” She smiles. The soft edges of it feel out of place on her face, but she tries anyway. “Thank you.”

Claire shrugs.

“Did the kids finish their homework?”

“Mhm. Bobby got an A on his math test.”

“Good. That’s—glad to hear it.” She runs a hand through her hair, mussing it further. She doesn’t have to look at herself in the mirror to know she must look a fright. She _feels_ old, and she thinks she must look it too. Too many late nights, too many early mornings.

“I’m sorry I’m not here. I want to be, it’s just—”

“The job,” Claire finishes. “I know.”

“I—” The word _sorry_ doesn’t want to come out of her mouth. She’s said it so many times it feels bleached thin, a word repeated until it’s lost all meaning.

Claire shakes her head. “It’s okay. Just come to bed.”

Kade looks at Claire’s hand, her outstretched fingers callused from gripping a pencil, from weeding the herbs in their garden. Kade brushes her fingers along her wife’s before threading their hands together.

“Yeah, okay. Let me just—” she makes a vague gesture. “Organize a few things for tomorrow.”

Claire nods, no sadness in her eyes, no reproach. Kade thinks, not for the first time, that she doesn’t deserve this woman.

“Sure. Don’t be too long.”

“I won’t.”

Kade watches Claire drift up the stairs, the hem of her robe sweeping across the carpet. She opens her briefcase and stares into its yawning depths for a while too long. It looks nearly cavernous without the lights on.

She sighs and closes it with a definitive click. Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter can wait until tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Despite my better judgment, I am still on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/lovetincture).


End file.
